


Her Niche

by evelynIttor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynIttor/pseuds/evelynIttor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen didn’t want to live in this crap hole. Her baby shouldn’t have to grow up in a dirty shack. Cotton Candy prompt Dream House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Niche

It was a mess. The roof needed to be shingled again, the carpet on the inside had been marinating in dog piss for years and the three rooms in the back for them to live in were tiny and ramshackle. But Bill smiled when they saw the place and Ellen knew it was going to be their new home.

"Come on Ellen. It'll be great!" He smiled at her and put his hand over her stomach. "And don't you want our son to grow up in a home, instead of on the road?"

So Ellen groaned and smiled and put her back into ripping out the carpet and scrubbing down the countertops. Her baby would have somewhere to live, even if it was just a crib in one of the backrooms. Although she had a feeling that they weren't having a son.

They opened Harvelle's Roadhouse three months later and Ellen's back ached from carrying in kegs of beer and the extra weight on her stomach. She was wearing Bill's shirts now, there wasn't money for new clothes, or baby supplies.

The Roadhouse did good business. They got mostly the blue collar workers from the steel mill one town over, but they paid their tabs and drank heartily. Bill took over the deep fryer when Ellen's belly was too large for her to reach it easily.

They picked up second hand baby supplies and bullets on their runs into town. Word was getting around and at least once a week, hunters were dropping in, looking for tips or weapons. Ellen started keeping lists of phone numbers and addresses. A Hunter telephone book of sorts.

She went into labour on a pay day. They were raking in the cash and the Roadhouse was loud with cheerful voices and drinking songs when what she had thought were cramps clearly became contractions.

"Bill." She put down a half filled pitcher and turned off the tap. "Bill, I think that we need to go."

"Now?" He looked at her, sweating from the heat of the fryer.

"Yes now!" Ellen clutched onto the counter for dear life as another contraction hit her.

"Right." Bill pulled the fries out of the fryer."Give me a minute." He stepped around the bar and Ellen sank to the floor for a quick break once he started talking to Rufus, probably giving him the keys for the night.

"Ready?" Bill had their overnight duffel over his shoulder, only now it diapers and baby clothes in it, rather than silver blades and salt. He help her to her feet and they walked together, her leaning against him out to the pickup.

"Did Rufus promise not to burn down our house?" Ellen asked as she stretched the seatbelt down below her belly and locked it into place.

"He's closing it up now." Bill said, putting the truck into gear and speeding towards town. "I'm not letting him run our baby."

Ellen laughed. "You're going to have to stop saying that once we've got an actual baby."

The doctors said that everything went smoothly. Ellen didn't quite agree, but they released her thirty hours after the birth and that was the longest she'd ever stayed in a hospital and it was the first time she'd waited to be released before leaving. It was different, that and they actually planned on playing this medical bill.

They still didn't have a car seat, so Ellen held baby Jo in her arms until they pulled into the Roadhouse parking lot. The lights were off inside, and there weren't any other vehicles in the parking lot.

"Here, give her to me." Bill took Jo from her arms, smiling down at his daughter. "Can you get in by yourself or do you need a hand?"

"I can manage." Ellen passed him the overnight bag and moved slowly, climbing out of the truck and walking slowly across the soggy ground.

Bill unlocked the door in the back and waited for her to catch up before stepping inside. "Oh." He said, his arms rearranging so that he could pull out a gun from his jacket and still keep hold of his daughter.

"What is it?" Ellen asked, hand flying to the pocket where her sidearm usually was.

"I'm not sure." Bill stepped in so that she could come in out of the April cold.

It was different. The broken fan on the ceiling had been fixed and the burnt out bulb replace. There was a new area rug on the floor and the hot plate and the toaster oven were shiner than they'd ever been.

"Hello?" Bill called, stepping forward to glance into their bedroom.

"Wait." Ellen spotted an envelope with their names on it. "It's from Rufus." She skimmed it quickly, putting it back down on the table a moment later. "He says thanks."

Bill snorted. "Look at this." He pointed into their bedroom. The crib that they'd rescued from the side of the road was gone, replaced with something that looked sturdy and safe, if not new.

Ellen bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes. Suddenly this wasn't a ramshackle hut in need of demolition. It was their family's home, where their daughter would take her first steps, say her first word and fire her first shotgun out in the back. It didn't matter that the roof would always leak or that the smell of cooking oil would hang in the air forever, this was their home.

"Something wrong?" Bill asked, coming over to put his arm around her. "You feeling okay?"

Ellen nodded. Everything was okay, everything was perfect. She had her family and that was all the home that she needed.


End file.
